June 2012
15 posts
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Chapter 3 - Fire
Pompeii II.
Tick.
Sweat ran down Vito’s face, arms, and legs. He was reasonably certain sweat was running down his sweat.
Tick.
Vito knew he had seconds to find a Shelter, before the eruption caught him, or the ashy air choked him. He was bolting at breakneck speed down the streets of Pompeii II.
Tick.
It was getting harder to see. Vito knew the city’s layout better than most, but even that...
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Chapter 2 Part 3
Miles resumed pacing his apartment. The TV resumed its silent display. The storm continued raging outside.
How am I supposed to get out of here? Miles thought, it’s over ten miles to the office, and God only knows how much further after that…
Miles had a vehicle, but driving out into a storm on Element was suicide. Only certain high-end EMG ships and governmental vehicles had the tech...
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From January With Love
I found this little chunk of prose tucked away from January. Thought I’d post it.
It’s the fear of the call, more than anything else, that keeps her up waiting for him to return. She knows what would happen once he did stumble through the door, defeated and drunk, the bruises of doubt fingerpainting his face and shoulders and back. Sometimes she’d yell and thrash, put on a show of disgust for...
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Chapter 2 Part 2
A screen came to life on the wall. It was muted; Miles usually kept his TV this way. He was just reclining on his couch to relax when a loud tone sounded. The sudden noise startled Miles, and he tumbled off the couch, upsetting the remote, which un-muted. As the tone sounded again, Miles touched a button on his left ear and answered the phone.
“Hello?”
A deep voice, “Miles.”
“Yes?”
“You have a...
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The strangest part, the most beautiful part, was...
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Inside the Arch
Chapter 2 - Inside the Arch
Inside the polished confines of the arch, Miles was pacing. Room 1045 was about two-thirds up the A arch, city-side. The city was where Miles wanted to be. Unfortunately the weather drones had failed to pick up the storm front that was now doing its best to destroy everything. The music of Mr. Bullinger’s architecture did nothing to sooth Miles’ irritation. In fact, he...
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Mom
I have rarely wanted to be like my mother. Overall, she is a snapshot of what I see as the worst I could become—defensive, deeply religious (the kind that makes her close-minded and bigoted), short-tempered, overbooked and always late. She is more than just these vices and bad habits, though; I don’t want to paint her unfairly. She is a loving mother who spends much of her energy and money taking...
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« Of Spring Rain »
Narcissa and I used to share a room. We got in a big fight over what color to paint the walls. She wanted a light green, me a happy yellow. In the end, our dad had the walls painted off-white, like most rooms in the apartment. My mother always said she didn’t like the location, but Narcissa and I were too young to really understand what she meant. The...
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The Chronicles of Element
((writer’s note: I am impossibly impossibly behind in this project. In an effort to catch up and resume normal weekly posting, I am repurposing and continuing a serial fiction I had started in the previous Year in Prose project. I will be abandoning my current serial fiction. This story will begin with my June 1st post, and will consist of both re-posted material and new material.))
Chapter...
